


Of Failures and Feats

by monoidea



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pillow Talk, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24093322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monoidea/pseuds/monoidea
Summary: In which late-night musings lead to newfound revelations.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39
Collections: Fairshaw Week 2020





	Of Failures and Feats

**Author's Note:**

> Written for #FairshawWeek 2020 prompt Day 6: Scars

Shaw woke to cold, and his throat was parched. For a moment he thought he was back in a cage, and sat up, alarmed. But with a blink his surroundings filtered in and his nerves calmed. He was in a small room, not exactly a tidy one. Cool wind rattled the windows, and a dwindling fire crackled its last before fading into embers. He sat up, threw off the blanket, and fumbled for the pitcher on the table. He filled a goblet with water to ease the burning thirst in his throat. While sipping the cold liquid he looked around. In the faint light, the room looked even dirtier than it was in daylight. His eyes strayed toward the bed, where his companion lay on his belly, snoring softly. He was naked, and Shaw in his haste to get up for a drink he haphazardly threw the blanket off of his form as well. Outside the weather was getting cold, autumn was slowly turning to winter as the cold winds descended from Northrend. Shaw crouched by the fireplace to rekindle the flames when the rustle of sheets along with a faint whimper caught his ears. He got up and went to the bedside. Flynn now lay on his side, unmoving, his snoring stopped but still asleep. Shaw couldn't see his face from where he stood but noticed a slight movement. He was shivering. Instinctively Shaw made a move to cover the man with the blanket, but then his eye caught on something he previously never noticed. The fire provided enough light now to see the details. It was a horrendous set of scars below his ribs on his side, just above his right hip. It consisted of several puncture wounds settled into an arched line, some clear and sharp, the others torn and jagged. A sudden vivid imagery of Flynn lying on his back and bleeding out from his grotesque wound invaded his mind, and he almost shuddered. His fingers grazed the whitened tissue briefly, and Flynn stirred.  
"Crolusk." he mumbled. Shaw's movements entirely stopped with a question hovering in the air.  
Flynn turned around abruptly and sat up, vestiges of sleep entirely gone. He sat there with wide eyes with an incredulous look on his face.  
"Mate. Don't tell me I never told you about _the crolusk?_ " he asked, genuinely surprised. Oh, no. Shaw closed his eyes in defeat and shook his head, but not because he hadn't heard the story before. He was not in the mood for a tale, he just wanted to crawl back to the cozy warmth and resume his much-needed sleep. But Flynn was wide awake now and took a deep breath. He cleared his throat, then swallowed, licked his lips, and started.  
"A few years ago, in Vol'dun there was a nasty Tortollan guy who-" Shaw raised his hand, halting his words. It worked.  
"Spare me, Flynn, I've already heard it." That statement earned him a doubtful look.  
"Mate, then why did you ogle my wound as if it were a novelty?" Flynn asked, his voice on the verge of exasperation. Shaw only huffed. He was always keen on details, but then again letting in too much of said details can often be overwhelming and counterproductive. Shaw honed the skill of filtering intelligence over the decades and was a master of ignoring everything he deemed of no value. Flynn's elaborate stories, cruel as it may sound, always landed in the imaginary trash-bin, especially since Shaw always had the suspicion that they were entirely made up. Now his dark little secret was about to be revealed, and Shaw decided that the timing couldn't be more wrong. He just wanted to sleep.  
"I didn't ogle it, I just counted the number of teeth for future reference." he lied.  
Flynn didn't buy it, his eyes narrowed in scrutiny. He pursed his lips as if working up to say something, but another shiver caught him. He pulled the blanket around himself, cocooning, and peeked at Shaw. Shaw grabbed at the edges of the blanket because he was about to lie back down, but Flynn didn't let him, thus resulting in a vicious tug-of-war.  
"Let me back, it's cold." Shaw tried to sound pleading, but his irritation bled through.  
"Nope," Flynn said. Shaw sighed in defeat.  
"All right then. What do you want?"  
"Admit it," Flynn said. "Admit that you never listen when I tell you a story."  
Shaw held his gaze. The other looked like a pouting child.  
"I listen to them all, Flynn." he sounded convincing because it wasn't a lie. What he didn't tell him was the fact that he erased the stories from his memory right after. But Flynn finally gave in and reluctantly eased his vice-like grip on the blanket. Shaw was grateful for that and crawled back in the bed that was kept warm while he was out of it. He pressed his body to Flynn's to bathe in his body-heat, but the muscles beneath him were tense. So much for a peaceful night, Shaw thought wryly. Flynn remained stiff, a frigid statue of pent up acrimony. And Shaw couldn't fall asleep while he was like that.  
"Okay, out with it," he said, resigned.  
Flynn shifted beside him but didn't say a word. Shaw lifted his head to sneak a glance at him.  
"What is bugging you? Tell me so I can sleep."  
Finally, Flynn spoke.  
"You never tell me about your scars."  
Now, this was definitely not the time for _that_ talk, and Shaw groaned.  
"There's a reason to it Flynn. Please don't pry." Hopefully that was the end of it. Shaw closed his eyes. But he felt Flynn's gaze boring into his face.  
"Are you ashamed of them?" Flynn whispered. So tactless. Shaw's eyes snapped open to the sight of Flynn gazing at him with concern and curiosity. Shaw's mouth twisted into an unintended snarl.  
"I don't take pride in my failures like some." he snapped.  
That was a twisted insult, and not fair from him but his ire rose to a height that Shaw didn't care anymore. But, to his utter surprise, it turned out to be ineffective, the harsh words completely bounced off of Flynn. He only smiled in return, and that was unanticipated.  
"Pride? No." Flynn shook his head. Then he paused, thinking. "Failure? Big no."  
Shaw blinked and raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.  
"I'm not proud of them. I'm rather grateful. And, no they're not really failures, I prefer the term feats."  
"Grateful?" Shaw asked quizzically.  
"Yup." Flynn nodded but didn't elaborate further. But Shaw wasn't satisfied with the answer, he found it rather confusing.  
"How?"  
Flynn looked away in thought.  
"Well. Without these scars, I wouldn't be the person who I am now." he said slowly. "and... I wouldn't be where I am now." he continued. His eyes strayed back to Shaw's and he let out a faint smile.  
"For instance, I wouldn't have met you." A breath caught in Shaw's throat. Then, as the words seeped in slowly, his hand went to Flynn's face and he pulled him in a tight embrace. He pressed a kiss on his brow. They remained like that, entwined in the warmth, and soon sleep returned to them both. But not before Flynn heard the whispered words.  
"One day..." Shaw said, almost inaudibly. "I will tell you my story."

**Author's Note:**

> ❤


End file.
